


Play It Again

by jcksnwhttsmrs



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Title from a Country Song, Toronto Maple Leafs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcksnwhttsmrs/pseuds/jcksnwhttsmrs
Summary: You loved country concerts but didn't usually partake in the tailgate hooking up everyone else seemed to do, until you met Morgan Rielly. Falling in love during a few weeks over the summer was probably so bad for you, but you did it anyway.
Relationships: Morgan Rielly/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Play It Again

You sat in the back of your friend’s truck, legs swinging over the edge, a beer pressed nicely to the inside of your thighs to hold it in place. It was hot out. You wiped beads of sweat off your forehead and leaned back, watching over as the group of three girls you came with all attempted to play cornhole and gushed over the hot guys parked three cars down from you. It wasn’t really your scene. Honestly, you were here for the music. You didn’t need the tailgating. Your eyes scanned the crowded field, loving nothing more than people watching. But you blushed and looked back down at the skin of your thighs when you saw someone looking back.

He was in the next row of cars, cradling a beer of his own with a group of guys you assumed to be his friends. One was huge, dressed like he didn’t know it was Arizona in August and the other, a lanky kid-like guy in jorts. It made you laugh, but the guy who had been staring seemed like a happy medium. The two of you were stealing glances at each other through three songs until your friends had returned with the guys they had met and demanded you all took shots. Of course, you obliged. You would never say no.

Eventually, they had gone back as Luke Bryan’s new song blasted through the speakers in their ridiculous F-350. Blondie had a new can in his hand and he was walking over to you. You bit your lip in anticipation when he got to you, standing a safe few feet away. “Hi,” he said, shoving one hand in his jeans pocket. “Hi,” you repeated. He scanned the rest of the truck, like he was looking for something he couldn’t find. “Are you here alone?” he asked. You nodded in the direction of your friends.

“Just those three girls over there,” you said. He took a few steps closer. “Not here with your boyfriend?” he asked. You laughed. “I don’t have one,” you told him and patted the spot next to you in the bed of the truck. Usually you would never do this. You thought people were so predictable. Places like this, everyone was the same. Just looking to hook up and get drunk and it wasn’t really you at all. This guy though, something about him seemed so different. He wore a sweet smile that didn’t look like it was asking for anything. “No way,” he mumbled to what you said and you blushed.

“I’m Morgan,” he said, sticking a hand out as if he’d forgot that he was still mysterious to you. You introduced yourself and shook his hand. “So those guys not your type then?” he asked, looking over at the guys your friends had grown to enjoy. One smashed a beer can on his head as they all laughed. You snorted. “Not really,” you answered. You let your eyes scan back over to the guys you’d seen Morgan with before. “Those your friends?” you asked. He laughed and said yes.

“Auston’s the one dancing right now. He’s from here. Mitch’s the skinny one. He dragged us here. He loves country,” he told you and you laughed. “Well then Mitch has good taste,” you said, teasing him. Country was your favorite, hence why you were here, and at almost every concert that came through this summer. Your eyes lit up as the oversized truck a few cars down started blasting the song you were obsessed with at the moment. You hopped off the bed of the truck and downed the rest of your beer. “I love this song,” you said. Morgan smiled at you and carefully put his beer down just as you grabbed his hand.

“Come on, dance with me,” you said. Everyone around you was doing it too, so it wasn’t that big of a deal when you let your arms snake around his neck and you didn’t flinch when he let his hands hang onto the belt loops off your cut off shorts. You hummed along to the song and swayed as you looked up into Mo’s eyes. They were sparkly and you were mesmerized. You were shocked that he had come over to you at all. There were hundreds of easy girls around you, and you were just sitting there not looking for the attention. He was beautiful, he could probably do so much better.

You didn’t speak until a few minutes into the song, just enjoying each other’s company for the blissful moment. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he said, and you stared down at your cowboy boots and his sneakers on the ground beneath you. Your hair fell in your face and you were glad it covered the blush on your face. It was like he knew it was something you needed to hear. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you said, moving a little closer to him, your fingers running through the hair on the nape of his neck.

You eventually had met up with your friends again, and walked into the show with their group of frat bros, and Morgan and his friends following behind you. When the sun went down and everyone was packed together, Morgan had wrapped his arms around you, not letting you go. He swayed to the music and when the band stripped it down, he snuck a kiss onto your shoulder and none of this felt real. While one of your friends threw up in the bathroom, and the other hooked up with one of the guys from the jacked up truck, Morgan walked you to your car, hands swaying intertwined between you. “You think I could see you again?” he asked.

“I thought you weren’t from here?” you asked. Once at the door, you leaned against it but Morgan stayed close to you. “I’ll be around for a few weeks,” he said. He had told you they were here visiting from Toronto which sucked because from the few hours you’d spent with him, you liked him. And that was all going to fade when he left again. “I don’t think I should,” you told him honestly.

But two days later, you went to a movie. And two days after that, he took you to dinner. And the fourth time you saw him, you’d made out in your truck for fifteen minutes before he left and you were falling way too hard for a guy you met at a tailgate who you knew was going to leave you crushed.

It was three days before Morgan had said he was flying out, and you drove as far out of the city as you could because you wanted to be alone with him and the stars. He’d promised it would be real romantic. A blanket out in the desert, just wrapped up in each other, looking up at the sky. “I have a surprise,” he mumbled, taking his hand out of yours as he walked back to the car. Opening the trunk, he pulled out a guitar and you laughed. From what you’d heard him sing in the car with the radio, you didn’t think he was very musically inclined but he sat across from you, instrument in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, but he just began strumming the chords to the song you’d first danced to. Your smile was probably the biggest it’d ever been as he trucked through, playing your favorite song. He sang softly, and the whole thing was not deserving of a record deal but it was the sweetest sound you knew. You couldn’t help it, but you broke his concentration when you leaned over to grab his face and kiss him.

“Is it too soon to say I love you?” you asked, and turned to look away from him. You really didn’t want to say that out loud. Morgan placed the guitar on the ground next to him, and scooted to you, pulling you in so you were pressed against him, sitting between his legs. He managed his arm around your waist and held you like he did at the concert when you met him. “I don’t think so,” he whispered into your shoulder before placing a kiss there. As happy as you were a moment ago, the sadness washed over you. Of course you fell in love with the most perfect guy in the world, and he lived in another country.

Weeks later, and you hadn’t gone a day without talking to Morgan on the phone. You were beginning to think maybe it would work out. Once he had dropped the bomb on you that he was actually a hockey player, not only did you feel oblivious and stupid but you thought that was only going to make this whole thing worse. That was until you watched him score his first goal on TV. You beamed at the television when you heard the soft sound of the song playing in the background while they zoomed in on him celebratig. It was your song.


End file.
